Rattled
by Tiara of Sapphires
Summary: A play goes wrong. Ridiculously wrong. But Ginny tries to find a silver lining. As thin as it is. Bawson


**So. My first work for the fandom. Because after binge-watching all 8 episodes, I needed to write something.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch or any of its characters. I just like playing which the characters and making them do things.**

…

Ginny Baker was in the zone. But it was also windy as hell so that was cramping her style. But they were in Chicago so she wasn't expecting anything less.

Bottom of the third, Padres up 2-1 against the Cubs.

There was one man on first, but Ginny knew he wasn't going to risk stealing second. So she just had to focus on Mike and the man—Lewis—at the plate.

She watched Mike's hand, each signal he made. They were good at this, reading each other. They had to be, for this to work.

Slider. Fastball. _Slider._ Change-up.

She nodded and Mike opened his glove, ready to catch her pitch. She glanced Lewis, who hefted his bat behind his shoulder. During his first at-bat, Ginny could tell he didn't take her that seriously. But after she struck him out, it was clear the next time around he was taking her very seriously.

Mike gave her the call and she was ready.

Set-up. Inhale. Wind-up. Exhale-throw.

Paint the corners.

The ball left her hand and she had to watch to see what happened next.

Lewis swung and connected with the ball, but Ginny noticed almost instantly that the angle was wrong and he likely was going to end up getting struck out at first, but there would be a man on second.

The ball hit the dirt between the plate and the mound in a puff of brown and bounced. In the space of a instant, she didn't even have time to think and duck.

The world went black for a moment. She didn't know how long, but the next time she saw color, the sky was staring at her and dirt was her bed and every heartbeat sent a flare of pain from her temple, radiating down.

Fuck.

Mike was standing over her, the sun directly behind him. She had to squint, but then again, she always felt like she was staring at the sun whenever she looked at him.

Damn, where did _that_ come from?

Now he was kneeling next to her head and she could hear what he was yelling.

"Don't move, rookie. Do you hear me? Baker? Ginny?"

She looked up at him and nodded. He probably would have teased her for immediately disobeying him, but he looked angry, worried. It wasn't something she liked to see.

"I swear to God, Gin," he growled. "Wait 'til the medic gets here. Don't you fucking move."

There were figures moving in at her right and left but her eyes were fixed on Mike. His mitt and mask were gone and his eyes were roving over her face like he was trying to figure out what was wrong with her, even though the obvious problem was that she was hit in the head by a groundball.

Probably for the best that it was a groundball. A line-drive could've put her to sleep for good.

God, she really shouldn't think about stuff like that. She shouldn't think at all.

Someone snapped their fingers in front of her face, catching her attention, forcing her eyes away.

Coach was yelling her name.

"Baker!"

She nodded, acknowledging his words, blinking around the stars and black spots in her vision. Blip was there, too, standing behind the coach, concern naked on his face.

"Do you know where you are?" Coach asked, still yelling, like he was thinking somehow the ball to the head deafened her.

He repeated the question and she realized she hadn't answered.

Right, where was she? She was on the mound. Wriggly Field? Right, Wriggly Field. Everyone was rooting for the Cubs because it was 2016 and it had been years and they just want a shot at the World Series. If Ginny hadn't been playing in the actual Majors, she'd probably root for them too.

Right, right, the question. The men hovering over her seemed to be getting more and more concerned with each moment it took before she could answer them.

"Chicago," she rasped.

There was the sigh of relief. Clearly, they were looking for brain damage.

"Can you stand?"

Ginny forced one arm underneath her, prying her shoulders off of the ground. She made it maybe an inch before a wave of nausea had her thumping back.

"Nope," she croaked.

Now the nausea was taking over the pain in her head. She made an ugly-sounding noise and turned to her side, heaving into the dirt.

Acid burned in her throat and nose and there was a hand, large and warm, at her head, keeping her ponytail out of the way of her vomit.

"We need a stretcher," Mike bellowed, way too close to her ear.

That was probably unnecessary for him to say that. There's always an ambulance on stand-by. But she almost would have liked the idea of him being so concerned about her if just thinking didn't hurt so much.

The medics swept in at that moment, the coach and Mike swept aside.

They fit on a neck brace, set her on a stretcher, and wheeled her off the field. It was quick and efficient.

The crowd was chanting. "Gin-ny. Gin-ny. Gin-ny." Even though they were thousands of miles away from San Diego, there were still people cheering for her. And now that she found herself on the stretcher, the cheers seemed amplified.

She gave them a thumbs-up and the crowd roared. Yeah, she was fine. Not dead. Not on the permanent DL. Hopefully.

The ambulance ride was short and when she reached the hospital the doctors fussed over her, running tests.

She just had a concussion, but she had to stay overnight at the hospital.

Amelia came in first to her hospital room, talking about a press release and how the clip of her getting hit was trending on social media.

While Ginny loved and appreciated Amelia for what she did for her, Ginny did not want to deal with that sort of stuff right then.

So she gave a lot of grunts, a lot of one word answers to her questions and suggestions.

There was a knock at the door, much to Ginny's relief.

It was probably Blip or Coach. Definitely not the media, unless the people working at the hospital let someone slip through.

Amelia opened the door and Mike Lawson's frame filled the door.

Ginny wasn't hooked up to a heart monitor and, God help her, she was grateful for it because her heartbeat kicked up as soon as she saw him.

Fuck.

"Mike," Amelia greeted.

There was a chill in her voice. Ginny knew about the break-up. And things hadn't been smoothed over yet. Not that she was surprised.

Mike grunted in greeting.

"Can she and I…?" Mike asked, gesturing between him and Ginny.

Amelia gave Mike a look that Ginny couldn't interpret.

"Alright. See you later, Ginny," Amelia said, before leaving them alone.

And there was silence. Mike stared at her as if he had never seen Ginny before.

"Hey," she greeted.

He sat down on the chair next to her bed.

"Hey. You okay?"

It felt like a dumb question but she didn't say so. She was laid up in a hospital bed with gauze around her head and an IV hooked to the inside of her arm.

"Been better. Never been hit like this before," she replied, picking at a stray thread on her covers.

There was a silence, heavy with something that Ginny was probably imagining but hoped she wasn't.

"The game—."

"We lost," he interrupted, getting right to the point. "3-2. Cubs got a lucky hit off our reliever in the 8th."

Disappointment settled in her chest. Another game back and away from the wild card. But it was in the 8th inning and she would've been relieved by the.

"Nothing that I could've done," Ginny breathed.

Mike nodded.

"You're right. You know, maybe that ball finally knocked a little sense into you," he mused.

Ginny groaned, "That was the most stupid and predictable concussion joke I've ever heard."

"I made the joke, so it can't be stupid."

"Oh, of course not."

"When you're team captain, you become incapable of making stupid jokes."

She rolled her eyes. She couldn't argue too much on that point. He was good at bringing up the mood, cheering her up. Whenever they had drinks with their teammates or when it was just the two of them, he often knew what to say that would make her smile.

She fell hard and fast, even though she knew it was a bad, horrible, terrible idea.

"At least he didn't get you in the face."

The pining thoughts disappeared for a moment, amusement replacing them.

"I think a black eye would make me look tougher."

Mike shook his head.

"Nah. You need those eyes. They're b—ah—good eyes."

Ginny didn't know how to respond to that. Maybe say something snarky. Cover for the sudden awkwardness that descended. But seeing Mike flounder for a moment was the most amusing thing she'd seen all day.

She reached for the icepack on the side table. While the meds kept the pain away, she knew the ice would keep down the swelling. The nurse said something about that, if she remembered correctly.

"Here. Let me."

He took the ice-pack from her and lightly pressed it over her temple.

"Were really concerned about me, huh?" she said, smiling.

Mike scoffed, but she could see affection in his eyes. She noticed that a lot, but she never let herself be too hopeful. Not that she would've dated him if it was real or anything more. She had a code. And that code was what kept her on this path so far.

It was nice to have this attention from him though, if she was being honest with herself. He kept the ice over her injury, never pressing too hard.

"Don't make me regret it, rookie."

Her eyes flickered closed and open, exhaustion and medicine trying to sweep her under.

"Pain meds got you good, huh?"

"Mmhmm," Ginny murmured. "'Said I'll be able to leave tomorrow."

She closed her eyes, sinking deeper into her lethargy. It was better that the pain meds were making her tired instead of making her tongue loose. She didn't know what kind of dumb things could spill out if she allowed them.

Mike scoffed again, a tiny huff of breath. The icepack left her forehead, but Mike didn't move away. Instead, he moved _closer_.

Fuck. Oh, God.

She kept still and limp, not sure if she was dreaming or not as she felt him leaning over her. There was a briefest pause and there was the whisper of breath over her face.

He pressed his lips over her temple and she was sure her heart stopped for a second.

His beard brushed over her eye and she almost giggled, but she didn't want to ruin this moment, this tiny opportunity. Because this was happening and she was positive this was happening and she wanted to cry and scream and kiss him back but the code the team the plan stopped her.

The heavy presence over her disappeared as he moved off of her, as he headed out of her room.

The door opened and there was a heavy pause and Ginny almost opened her eyes to see what he was stopping for but she didn't know what she would see and that was too much for her drugged-out brain to handle.

But the moment passed before she could do anything and the door closed with a click and she was alone with the smell of antiseptic.

"I know," she murmured, into the silence.

…

 **/**

 **Okayyyy so I'm definitely going to be taking requests for this ship. Smut, angst, fluff. All that. HMU on a href=" .com"tumblr/a with requests and stuff.**

 **All feedback is appreciated!**

 **Cheers!**

 **~Tiara of Sapphires**


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